


throat full of feathers, ship full of stars

by Zimraphel



Series: tolkien ficlets [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: elwing the bird on the other hand wants to steal ur icecream, in my opinion u cannot literally change into a bird, which is to say; elwing the woman was very tragic, without thinking like a bird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimraphel/pseuds/Zimraphel
Summary: Elwing changes into a great white bird, with everything that entails.
Series: tolkien ficlets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042965
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	throat full of feathers, ship full of stars

They had come from the children's room; and their swords were bloody. Both of them were shouting something, but she couldn't understand what they were saying; a sound like the ocean rushed through her ears at the sight, stumbling backwards with empty arms still outstretched in some beseeching motion. Earendil is gone and Idril never came back, her children are something so new there is no word for them yet, and no one knows where any of them are going. For years now, it has felt like the ground was disappearing beneath her feet. And then-- there is nothing beneath them, and she plunges down, blinded by the star around her neck reflecting the glare of the setting sun, crying and coughing with a throat full of feathers.

The last thing she remembers is Sirion's lighthouse, smooth and white, descending; deep blue sea and black rock about and beneath it.

Things are easier after that.

-

Swooping down, arc like the neck of a swan; down, down, then up; but what rises is not what falls, and in a scream words escape her.

Finally they feel wholly unnecessary, the world limitless at last. Water still clings to her but air rushes past, and the landscape shrinks back from her as though struck, red and black, two tin soldiers staring slackmouthed at the sky. There should be reasons to return, but the wind embraces her, and she lifts her breast towards the sun. There is so much joy in it; this swooping up and diving, sometimes deep below the waves after silver-glimmer fish. And all her life feels foreign to her, so insignificant, not worth it at all, weighed down now only by the stone around her neck. She shakes herself and tries to struggle out of its noose; but she used to be so small, and her feathers get in the way. So after a time she forgets again, and lets the wind bear her where it will, hearing only ocean, shouting something between a cackling laugh and cry into the wind.

-

[And there is no hope; the seas are shadowed and the horizon embraces itself like a snake biting its own tail. But still, he travels on, sun beating down, rations shrinking, vanishing. Until at last something like a bright star rises out of the deep to greet him, bearing down on great white wings.]

**Author's Note:**

> I might be imagining Elwing as a gigantic seagull. She _would_ steal your fries. Possibly your icecream. Actually writing this author's note makes me want to try writing something funny about her instead, but that will have to wait, much like the cosmic horror I actually wanted to inflict.


End file.
